To Build The Bonds That Tie by ThatFeanorian

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What We Can Carry

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It takes a full half an hour to wrestle Junior out the door, and when they finally manage it, it is only because Maedhros has his brother slung over one shoulder and Caranthir’s fingers are shoved deep in his ears as the little boy screams, punching at Maedhros’ shoulder blades while his tiny feet bounce up and down, leaving dirt marks on the front of his shirt.

Either he is purposefully hurting Maedhros (which is probably the more likely option) or Junior has yet to learn that he finally has enough strength amassed into his little chubby limbs to leave actual bruises on Mae’s skin. 

“No, no, no, no, no!” He shrieks from Maedhros’ shoulder, “I wanna go back, no home!” Maedhros squeezes his lips tight together and ignores this, instead, forcing a smile from his unwilling mouth and somehow managing to thank their neighbour in a civil tone. 

His screaming does not decrease by a single decibel until they once again reach their own house and Maedhros lowers him to the ground, letting Junior fall backwards and land on his bottom on the path, still sobbing and now scratching at Maedhros’ ankles --the closest available body part-- with his too sharp nails. In the driveway, his mother’s car sits, presumably having returned early from her class. Maedhros’ breath releases in an exhale of relief for the first time since the weekend, pushing open the front door without a backwards glance and making for the stirs as fast as he can, his schoolbag still bumping left and right across his shoulders.

It is all too much, and there are some days Maedhros simply is not big enough to contain everything that he is trying to hide inside himself. He is supposed to be strong, to take care of his brothers, to be reliable and responsible, but right now he feels like none of these things. Maedhros locks the door to his bedroom behind him and takes a deep shaky breath as his bag slides from his shoulders to land on the floor with a hollow thunk.

Junior has scratched through the top layer of his skin and there is a tiny line of blood welling up in the crescent shape of his nails in three different places on his left leg. The hot pink marker spelling out “Fag” inside his locker is burning behind his eyes, from down the hall, Maglor’s laugher echoes from behind his closed door and Maedhros can only hear all the nicknames and threats and teasing and hate, and he collapses backwards onto his bed, knees curled up and into himself as waves upon waves of unworthiness crash down upon him, slamming his heart into the rocks and tearing it into pieces, left out and rotting for the seagulls to pick away at their leisure. Maedhros is left with nothing but the pounding of his own heart and an overwhelming feeling of suffocation pressing downwards against his throat, while he gulps at air that is too far away to absorb and there is moisture on his cheeks.

For a moment, Maedhros has the absurd thought that it must be raining, and then he realizes the water on his face must be from his own eyes. Some day’s it is too much, but today it is so far from anything he has ever felt before that it seems the entire weight of the universe has centred itself on his sternum and if he dares to move an inch he will be crushed under the nothingness that he is and--

“Nelyo, darling, may I come in?” Maedhros’ heart stops somewhere dangerously close to the top of his throat, the thumping reverberating through the depths of his brain as his breath comes shallow and fast, eyes fixed upon a point too far in the distance for him to actually see.

“N-no.” he manages, his voice high and shaking, the words sounding sharp and too-loud to his silence soaked brain, where even the barely audible sound of birds beyond the windowpane is like a nail, slowly hammering itself into his skull. 

“I’m doing homework, Mom, please just leave me alone.” His throat hurts and he cannot move, because all that weight is still poised just above him, ready to drop at any moment,

“I just want to check in, Macalaurë said you didn’t have a great day?” Maedhros laughs, light-headed and slightly hysterical because he has never heard such an over-simplification come out of his mother’s mouth, has never even imagined that how he feels right now --poised on the edge of a cliff and ready to jump at the drop of a pin-- could simply be categorized as ‘not having a great day’. 

“No, I’m fine mom, how are you?” The words fall from his lips in a voice so high and cracking he doesn’t even recognise it as his own, the words rushed and blended half-way together. There is a slight pause, and then his mother, says very gently,

“Nelyo, baby, could you please open the door for me, I just want to talk about your day, sweetie, that’s it.” The too fast breaths are still coming, and Maedhros stares at the door, willing it to open itself, and wishing with all his might he hadn’t locked it upon entering. It is simply, too much of a risk to move from where he is right now: there are too many factors, too many things that could go wrong. 

Still, his mother is waiting beyond the door, and Maedhros has still not figured out the all-powerful secret to refusing his parents anything,

“Sure,” he whispers, just loud enough to know that she can hear him, and pushes himself up with both arms, suddenly unable to hear anything at all beyond a low static that he filled his brain to the top like the humming of a thousand angry flies. Arms tight around his middle to ward of the crushing suffocation he is sure will fall on him at any moment, but it never comes. Maedhros’ fingers feel even colder than the metal doorknob as he unlocks it and opens the door just enough to let his mother know she can come in. 

He feels safer, somehow, once his feet are back off the floor curled up beneath him back on his bed. Nerdanel’s footsteps follow him, and he feels the bed sink slightly as she places herself beside him, reaching one arm up to pull his own away from where they have locked around his knees, pulling himself into a tiny ball. Her skin feels warm and real as she pulls him towards her and, all strength gone, Maedhros collapses into her side, his entire body shuddering with the force of the sobs he has fought down all day. 

One hand traces small circles on his upper back, the other gripping his own as Nerdanel murmurs into his ear, words that Maedhros cannot hear over the force of his own crying. 

“Matimo, sweetheart, beautiful, do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” Maedhros considers shaking his head for a moment, pulling away from her and burrowing back into the safety of his bed and the knowledge that no one cares, but he can’t. Not when Nerdanel is holding him gently against her and he can feel her love and care and worry as if it were his own, all right up there against his skin in the rhythm of her heart. 

“‘S nothing Mom, ‘m sorry.” He mumbles instead, not quite an answer but not a refusal either. 

“My love, nothing that makes you cry will ever in any world be nothing to me.” He replies gently, rubbing another smooth circle into his back, and Maedhros wonders why, if this is true, she has not asked before. There have been so many times he has cried, so many times he has hated himself, and a million moments when he has questioned why he is alive if this is all he was born to feel. 

“I was just being stupid, it’s not a big deal.” he insists, hoping she will give it up, because now, suddenly, he is too scared to say anything more. To expose his heart --Maedhros feels-- would be equivalent to signing his own death warrant. There is so much trapped in there that if even one little bit is allowed to escape it will invariably trigger an explosion so large Maedhros’ body will have no chance of survival. 

“Nelyo,” she says softly, and there is a sudden burst of pure fear deep in Maedhros’ gut, so intense that it stops his heart. She knows, she must know, and this means he will have to tell.

“You weren’t being stupid, baby. Please let me into your beautiful brain, let me hear what’s going on in there.” His brain, Maedhros’ brain. All of this always comes back to his brain and something that must have gone wrong in there. There must be a glitch, a mistake, something wrong in there that is forcing everything that he feels to feel so real. Maedhros clutches Nerdanel’s hand, willing his mouth to open, for something to come out, and when it does it feels as if all his self-control has been pushed aside and he is sitting in a copilot seat as a part of him he didn’t even realize existed takes centre stage without his permission.

“I can’t get it off my locker.” That is what comes out, and Maedhros realizes with horror this statement must seem nonsensical to his mother and he will now have to tell the whole story. 

“You can’t what?” She asks, obviously bewildered, and Maedhros feels his chest clench as he looks up at her, scared of what he will find in her eyes, and positive that there will be disappointment, disgust, and a thousand other emotions that Maedhros has in droves when they are directed towards himself. 

“I dunno, Mom,” he whispers, “I failed my math test again and now I’m gonna have to repeat math next ear and I can’t do it and then some kids wrote stuff in my locker and Maca—” he cuts himself off quickly before he can say too much, but Nerdanel’s fingers squeeze his softly,

“What did they write?” She asks, voice hesitant, “If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine, love, but we should find someone you can talk to if it’s hurting you.” Maedhros tries to imagine saying this to another person, anyone at all, and he can’t, so instead, he tries to steady his breaths and replies,

“They said I was gay and that was bad and they wanted me to leave and stuff.” He says, his voice trembling slight and the words blending into one another as he hurries them out of his mouth. Nerdanel blinks, obviously not having expected to hear that particular reply, and her fingers tighten around his hand and shoulder, her expression hardening by a fraction of a degree. 

Maedhros’ mind reels, backtracking as fast as he can. He knew opening up was a mistake, why hadn’t he listened to while he still had time to escape? But then Nerdanel says,

“Maitimo, is this the first time something like this has happened?” And Maedhros’ head once again shakes without any of his approval,
“Why didn’t you tell me before, baby?” She questions and Maedhros looks her fully in the eyes, his heart up in his throat because he cannot bear to disappoint another person. 

In her eyes, he sees only worry and love as she pulls him tighter against her, her arms shaking slightly. Maedhros’ eyes well up with tears again, and he feels muscles he didn’t even know he had tensed relax in his back until he is a motionless blob against her, held up only by the force of what he saw in her eyes,

“It doesn’t matter,” he mumbles, “Family is more important than what other kids think about me.” 

“No, Nelyo, family is not more important. Nothing is more important than how you feel and who you are and who you want to be. I know we expect a lot of you, taking care of your brothers and getting them home some days, but that doesn’t mean you can’t feel sad and angry and upset, and that doesn’t mean you should try to suppress those feelings and just keep going. You are human, we all are, and no one should ever feel like other people matter more than themselves.” Maedhros sniffs, rubbing angrily at his eyes, because how could he cry, how could he press more onto his mothers back when she already has so much to carry?

“But it’s my fault, they would think that stuff if it wasn’t true, and I know I’m messed up and wrong and-”

“Maitimo Nelyafinwë Russandol Noldoran, there is not a single messed up wrong thing in your body. I don’t care what the other kids tell you is right and wrong, I don’t care if they think you’re the worst person on the planet, no one has the right to say that to my son and no one has the right to make you feel like you are the one at fault. You got that?” Maedhros nods hesitantly, though he cannot help but think that she is only one person and if even Maglor thinks he is wrong…

Downstairs the door opens, and Junior’s delighted screech can be heard even through the closed door. 

“Hello, Junior!” Fëanor’s voice is loud and boisterous, undercut my more happy shrieks from his youngest son as he gives a bark of laugher,

“Tyelkormo, I don’t want to see you walk through that screen door until you have hosed yourself down and no longer look like a monster.” Maedhros tenses once again in Nerdanel’s arms, looking up at his mother with fear once again clenching in his gut,

“Mom?” he pleads, and Nerdanel gently streaks the side of his face, humming in response,

“Please, don’t tell Dad?” She frowns, looking intently at him for a moment before nodding slowly,

“I won’t Maitimo, but we need to find someone at school you can talk to about this, okay? I don’t want you to have to deal with bullying as part of your school experience. If that means bringing your dad into it, we will, but for now, I won’t tell him if you don’t want me to.” Maedhros nods in agreement, silently vowing that no matter how bad the teasing and pain gets in the future, he will never tell her again. 

Maedhros cannot disappoint his father